Where the Lights Hang Low - Passenger

There’s a place I go

Where the lights hang low

The walls are stale from a thousand Marlborough lights

And the carpet tells a tale of a thousand Friday nights

There’s a man outside

Big black holes for eyes

Biting down on burnt out cigars

Plays forgotten songs on broken guitars

There’s a place I go

Where the lights hang low

There’s a place I’ve found

On the edge of town

Where all the girls dress in angelic white

But age is so unkind under florescent lights

And there’s a man by the door

Neatly stitched to the floor

He’s sat there for a thousand years

And he’ll sit there for a thousand more

There’s a place I go

Where the lights hang low

Oh there’s a place I go

Where the lights hang low